


Nylon: Chapter One - "How Does It Feel?"

by ExtremistComics



Series: Nylon [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Aftercare, Anal, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Clothing Kink, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Futanari, MILFs, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Pantyhose, Porn With Plot, Scent Kink, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:21:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27057112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExtremistComics/pseuds/ExtremistComics
Summary: Shy assistant Flora desperately wants to please her powerful, impossibly sexy boss Ms. Beatrix Buck. But she also wants to pleasure her. Bea has noticed the way Flora stares, especially at her imposing bust and her everpresent pantyhose, and she finds Flora cute. Bea warns Flora that she might not be ready for what Bea wants, but the idea that Buck finds her at all attractive makes her willing to do anything, and her constant worshipful fantasizing has prepared her to submit to Bea’s stern commands. Both women find the other’s desire for them utterly enchanting, but neither Beatrix nor Flora herself want Bea’s deliciously icy heart to melt for her entirely.
Series: Nylon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1974739
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	Nylon: Chapter One - "How Does It Feel?"

Flora had made Ms. Buck’s coffee a touch lighter than she likes it. She remedied this by pouring a bit out into the sink, lovingly erasing any trace of the pour from the outside of the mug with a paper towel, then adding slightly more coffee to balance the excess cream she had added. It was finally perfect. She carried the cup with her trademark steady, even walk back to the office, avoiding any chance a drop might spill. Ms. Buck had never been noticeably upset before that there was moisture sloshed on the rim of her mug, or that her coffee was a shade too dark or too light. She had been a bit miffed on one occasion early on when Flora had forgotten to bring her coffee entirely, and mentioned it unfavorably when she was more than a few minutes late with it.

For the past two years, Flora always brought Ms. Buck her coffee made exactly right, filled to just under the top but without spilling, exactly at 9:10 AM, not because Ms. Buck had been stern with her, but because she felt a powerful need to please her boss, and she was a woman who appreciated that level of precision and dedication.

Flora had worked here for four years, arriving shortly after she graduated college. For the first year or two, she admired Beatrix Buck greatly. Buck owned State, the chain of “affordably sophisticated” clothing retailers that used to be the general retail chain State & Adams, founded by her great-grandfather. This pivot was Beatrix’ doing, and was widely hailed as brilliant when it proved a success by people who had previously been openly skeptical. Business major Flora Entrada had long admired her business savvy, as well as her uncompromising glamour and sex appeal, rarely seen in a businesswoman at her level for fear of not being taken seriously.

After those two years, her fondness for Ms. Buck ceased to consist solely of admiration, Flora admitted to herself that she found Beatrix strikingly attractive, even though she deemed these feelings “unprofessional.” Flora had been a go-getting receptionist at the main office for most of her first year before Ms. Buck’s personal assistant left, and Bea very quickly snatched up this skilled worker. Flora was conflicted, at once hoping that she could have made a move up the chain of the company proper rather than just being a higher-paid office girl, but also being flattered immensely by her new proximity to the boss. For the past two years, Flora has relished that proximity with a prurient thrill that made her feel almost guilty.

She was around Ms. Buck a lot. They spoke frequently, and when she was in Bea’s office for long periods of time she typically drank in every glimpse of her boss she could manage with a hungry gaze. Her stoic face hid that interest, but she found being close to Ms. Buck intoxicating. In her frighteningly high stilettos, she didn’t just walk with poise, she glided like a ballerina. Her suits fit every contour of her body like paint, even as they projected strength and status. And she always wore identical pairs of sheer pantyhose, just a shade darker than her own skin.

Those fucking pantyhose.

Every time she saw Ms. Buck’s legs move, it was her own personal peep show. There was no position they could be in, no motion they could make that wasn’t pornographic in how it inflamed Flora’s heart. Flora had no particular fixation with legs or feet, though Bea’s legs were simultaneously long and powerful, a hint of muscle tone wrapped in pleasantly meaty thighs tantalizingly framed by her short skirts. It was the pantyhose themselves she was drawn to, but more than anything it was the sight of this divine woman wrapped in them. Bea was the nylon, and the nylon was her. They innately projected a classical elegance, along with an implicit authority and seriousness. When she pictured a woman in pantyhose, she pictured a stern, mature, but alluring schoolteacher who might spank you with a ruler for gawking at her nylon-clad legs, as if she didn’t know you wanted her to. She pictured a piano teacher who made you practice until your knuckles ached, but rewarded your perfect performance with a smile that utterly melted you.

Serious, and powerful, but elegant and sensual. That’s what made those pantyhose, those fucking pantyhose, so enthralling, not just in general but on Ms. Buck in particular, who embodied all those qualities with or without them. In pantyhose, she was Queen Arthur with her Excalibur. They didn’t simply complement each other, they were one and the same. They were part of her.

When Flora was with Bea, every part of her boss’ body stood before her like a shrine to the eroticism of a powerful woman. Her waist was hardly corset-pinched, but that slight inward curve and the proportions of her bust and hips magnified each other into a pin-up hourglass. Whoever made Bea’s bras deserved a Nobel Prize in engineering. That much flesh should not fly that high and look that natural doing it. Surely, only two of the three could be possible at once, but her twin-torpedo bosom squared those circles. Hanging from her motherly hips was a bottom Flora had never seen in person on a woman who wasn’t at least a little chubby. Bea was hardly skinny, but on even her voluptuous frame her ass seemed to have a life of its own, restricting how far Ms. Buck could bend over in her trademark “business mini” without her rear pulling up that skirt to show half the country the crotch of her plain but form-fitting navy panties. With the door closed, within the privacy of her office, Ms. Buck was a little less circumspect about never leaning more than a little, and Flora had caught sight of her panties on several memorable occasions. Bea’s back to her, Flora’s face dropped its stoic detachment, her lip quivering, her eyelids fluttering, her cheeks likely blushing firetruck red. It took all of Flora’s legendary discipline not to shove her nose in that inviting gap if only to draw in a deep breath of her boss’ scent.

Four years or so into her career at State Brands, all of these glances and daydreams and urges were starting to roll into a full boil. She had been leering at images of Bea she found online, standing just a little too close to smell her perfume, or just her natural aroma, even getting an odd vicarious rush out of sitting in Bea’s chair when she was out of her office for a minute but left Flora behind. If not for fear of getting caught, she might have done what she kept telling herself a lesser woman might do and shoved her face in the seat instead, pressing her cheek against the surface that Ms. Buck held her ass against for hours each day, basking in whatever scent might be left behind.

Flora had it bad.

She had barely entertained a sexual thought about anybody else for a year. She had been single for three. Ms. Buck also happened to be single, or at least not tied down to any one woman. But she wouldn’t have any interest in Flora, of course. Flora was pretty, yes. She was a little short, and not as curvaceous as Bea by a mile. She dressed nice, but not to draw attention. But she was quite cute, and had many qualities she was sure Bea would prize in a partner, especially if “obsessive devotion to her raw sexual charisma” and “willingness to do anything she wanted” were on that list. Given Ms. Buck’s severe but glamorous air, they very well might be.

All of these thoughts raced through Flora’s own head, as they often did, and as they did a little less often, they stirred a throbbing erection in Flora’s pants, an item she always bought very purposefully with a loose-fitting crotch and room around the top of the thighs that allowed her to hide all but the most insistent risings of her average-sized member if she had too. Today, she would have to.

The intercom at Flora’s desk flashed green. That light indicated, with no sound necessary, that she was needed. She shifted furtively in her seat to ensure her cock went down one side of her trousers, and even paused a second before getting up to give herself time to subside at least a little. She walked confidently into Ms. Buck’s lavish office and gave her standard, painfully formal “How can I help you, Ms. Buck?”

Bea was not seated behind her desk, but in one of the two chairs facing it. Her chair was turned slightly away, not quite facing the other one but pointed in its general direction. She did this infrequently, but it wasn’t unheard of. It usually meant Flora would be handling a more personal matter, or sometimes that she needed to discuss something that was bothering her on more than a professional level. The exemplary employee Flora was never the issue in those serious talks.

“Sit down, we need to talk about something a little delicate,” Ms. Buck said in a deliberately hushed voice. Flora closed the door and turned the blinds on both sides, standard protocol for Serious Business.

“Is something wrong?” Flora asked. “Do you deal with the people in logistics often?” Buck asked. “Between us, the closings in the southeast have streamlined our supply chain by enough that I’m being told pretty clearly we no longer need as many people there as we have.”

“Oh,” Flora said. “This is that talk.”

“I know you don’t like to weigh in on big decisions,” Buck said. “I trust your judgment, but understand that this is just talk. I’m not going to take your insights as gospel and fire somebody because you don’t like their tie.”

“I understand,” Flora said. “Who might be getting cut?” There was a strict formula for the number of buttons Ms. Buck ever had undone on her shirt. She aimed to always display the mere suggestion of cleavage, no more, but also no less. There were very few blouses on which she undid more than one button, typically ones with a button more than usual. On this shirt, though, the button she always left undone was situated just slightly lower than the others. Flora liked this shirt very much.

“Jenkins and French are new, and they’re serviceable employees, but they’re also young and pretty industrious. I think they’ll bounce back if I have to let either of them go,” Buck said. She seemed harsh at times, but Ms. Buck was actually quite compassionate. She also had the burlesque figure of the cartoon femme fatale you might see on the back of a deck of nudie cards, which was proving a distraction.

Flora put up a deliberately businesslike façade. “Howell and Garcia are experienced, and I’m sure you value their loyalty, but I’d always gotten the impression that the protocol in a situation like this is to cut senior staff. Howell is close to retiring, and Garcia isn’t far behind. They also make a lot more than the new girls. Just to play devil’s advocate, I guess.”

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t go in that direction if we were scraping up cents,” Buck said, “but this isn’t a desperation move. We just have four people doing the work of three, and if we do cut somebody, which we might not, I want to know I’m not leaving a good worker to the wolves.” Buck’s leg was tantalizingly close to brushing against Flora’s, and it was making it hard to think about anything else.

“In that case,” Flora said, collecting herself after realizing how intently she had been staring, “I do know that Jenkins has been looking for other jobs. She’s not unhappy, but she definitely feels like she has more room to grow elsewhere, and she is very career-oriented. Very ambitious. If you give her some notice she’ll have something lined up before she’s out the door. Maybe just talk to her. She might tell you she’s willing to go either way.”

Buck nodded, and smiled slightly. “This is why I bring you in on these things,” she said. “You’ve probably barely spoken to the woman, but you pay attention.” Bea placed her hand on Flora’s, not in a manner laden with any implication of affection, just a brief acknowledgement of appreciation. Without even questioning it, the enraptured Flora put her other hand on top of Ms. Buck’s in turn and looked directly in her eyes.

“I’m glad I can help you with these things,” she said, chuckling lightly and adding, “I do have a business degree, I guess.”

Between Flora’s hands, still in place to convey perhaps a different tone than Buck’s own gesture, Bea’s hand went a little bit slack. Her facial expression did the same. She averted Flora’s eye contact for a second, then finally broke the tension.

“Flora,” she said, “I do see the way you always look at me.”

Flora nearly dropped dead on the spot.

“I don’t have any problem with that at all,” Buck said, resuming their mutual glance. “But after all this time, you should just tell me whether this is just something you do around a woman you find attractive, or you’re actually…” She paused just a bit too long. “Or whether you actually see this as a relationship, as something you think could be a relationship.”

Flora was unsure what she was really being asked. “If you think my behavior is inappropriate, I’m so sorry. And if you think I’m trying to make something happen that’s unprofessional, I assure you, that is not my intention. And if you want to send me somewhere else, if I make you feel awkward because of anything I’ve done, I understand,” she said.

“That’s not what I’m saying, Flora.” Bea’s hand curled inward again, actively holding Flora’s hand beneath it as she had before. “I just want to know whether this is just looks, maybe a little infatuation, or if you have feelings for me. Because I think you’re a very pretty young woman, but I don’t know if taking things any further with somebody like me is something you would really want.”

Well, that’s certainly an interesting way to phrase that.

Flora suddenly understood what she was being asked, possibly better than Ms. Buck intended her to understand it.

“If you were interested in something happening between us that isn’t business, I’d be very flattered by that,” Flora said, “But I’m not certain that’s what you’re saying. Sorry, was that presumptuous of me? I feel like I might not understand what you’re asking. I’m trying to handle this delicately, so please tell me what you need here. I don’t want to do anything inappropriate.”

Bea put her other hand on Flora’s other hand. “What I’m saying is that I wouldn’t dismiss it,” Buck said, “but I also don’t want you to get your hopes up that going down that road with me might be something it isn’t. I don’t want this to happen if it’s going to go bad. I value you too much as an employee. I value you as a friend, if I’m honest.”

Flora could barely speak through the lump in her throat. “What would it be like if we decided to do that?”

The grip of both of Bea’s hands tightened slightly. She chewed her lips a little, and brought her crossed leg down, feet firm on the floor.

“Sit on the floor,” she said. “Move the chair over to the wall, just sit on the floor right here.”

Flora would have been puzzled by this if she had given it any thought whatsoever, but she immediately did what was asked. The view from below made her feel like putty in Bea’s hands, and no orgasm had ever been a total release of mounting tension the way that feeling was.

“You’ve always been very obedient,” Buck said. “Take off my shoes.”

Flora didn’t want to seem any less efficient and controlled doing this than doing her job, so she resisted the urge to complete the tasks she was being given with the frenzied abandon she wanted to. She very calmly undid the buckles keeping Bea’s shoes strapped to her ankles, and removed them.

Bea put her right foot on Flora’s left shoulder. She didn’t give any further instructions, not yet. She wanted to see how Flora reacted. Flora continued to put a calm face on, but her face rejected the attempt. She visibly trembled with Bea’s nylon-clad foot brushing against her face, with the weight of Buck’s leg resting on her.

Ms. Buck put her other foot on Flora’s other shoulder. This was a hell of an overture on its own, but with Bea’s predilection for skirts a bit shorter than the norm this position gave Flora a clear view of Buck’s crotch. Her requisite navy blue panties were within sight. She had never seen them from this angle before, and this made a difference, because there were certain things Flora was uncertain about when it came to Ms. Buck’s anatomy, and the exceptional bulge in her undergarment answered her number one question.

“I can tell you like this. Why is that?” Bea asked.

Flora struggled for a way to put this into words that was neither pornographic nor overly poetic. She failed to even decide which aspect of this situation was the most gratifying, if she did know how to describe any of them. Knowing it was the only sentiment she could render concisely, she simply said, “Because you know you could have done anything you wanted to me, and this is what you wanted to do.”

Flora could have sworn she saw Buck skip a breath. The mass bundled tight inside the crotch of her panties began to shift a little.

“Come forward a little,” Buck said. Flora shifted forward little by little until rather than her ankles, Bea’s knees rested on her shoulders. Ms. Buck looked down on her assistant with unbridled lust painted across her face. Flora took this clear interest as license to take some small liberties at last. Flora turned her head slightly, pressing her face firmly into the inside of Bea’s thigh, caressing a part of Ms. Buck she imagined touching more than even her imposing breasts or her world-class hind. Flora inhaled deeply. The heady musk that collects inside a woman’s pantyhose, that undiluted cauldron of pheromones and her unique intimate scent, was something Flora had only dreamed of experiencing between Ms. Buck’s legs. It was just close enough to the aroma she had imagined to satisfy her expectations, but different enough to pleasantly surprise her. When she finally exhaled, it came out as a whimper of such total bliss a tear welled in her eye and almost rolled down her cheek.

“When you like somebody’s scent,” Bea mused, “they say that’s how you really know you want them.” Flora giggled a little at Bea’s appreciation of an urge Flora had always thought was weird, and her laugh finally coaxed that tear onto her cheek. “I’m not going to bring what’s in my panties into this situation any time soon,” Bea said, “but if you want a good whiff of me, you have my permission to get in a little closer.”

Flora was so honored by this invitation she felt downright unworthy, and had to suppress that impulse to bring herself to accept the offer. When she did, though, she plunged her face all the way into Buck’s crotch. She did not violate the implicit understanding that she not attempt to stimulate her boss directly, but her presence there certainly made something move under Buck’s panties. All Flora did was draw heaping lungfuls of Bea’s unique signature scent. Bea was so enchanted with having someone so utterly devoted to every detail of her body, even her smell, that she instinctively squeezed her thighs together, burying Flora even deeper in the heaven of Buck’s most intimate reaches.

Before she lost her own composure, Beatrix opened her legs again and simply said, “Out.” Flora complied with no delay, but her plaintive face turned up to meet her boss’ downward gaze and Bea almost felt pity for the unbounded lust she was stirring in this girl.

“How can I help you, Ms. Buck?” Flora moaned. It would have been too clever by half for Bea’s taste if she hadn’t said it with absolute conviction. This wasn’t foreplay to Flora. This was sex. Her job had been the foreplay. And she had been yearning for this moment the whole time.

“Stand up,” Bea said. She did. “Take off your clothes,” Bea said. She hesitated.

“Should we be doing this in the office?” Flora asked.

“I’ve been naked in here before,” Buck said, “and so have other people. Did you have any idea?”

Without answering, or giving herself time to obsess over the absolute sexual bombshell that Ms. Buck had been naked in her office while Flora was mere feet from the door, Flora began unbuttoning her shirt with a propriety and precision that did not fit the situation but was unmistakably Flora. She took off her shoes, but Bea gave her a gesture when she went to remove her socks that indicated she should move on. She removed her pants, revealing a circus-grade tent in her own, quite modest pale pink panties. She reached behind her back to unhook her bra, and was interrupted. “Panties first,” Bea said, and Flora complied with less hesitation than she thought she would show. “Leave the bra on,” Bea said.

“Why?” Flora asked, realizing just after that asking a question like that might not be accepted procedure in a situation like this.

“Do you think it’s weird to be in socks and a bra, but no panties?” Bea asked. “I guess, yes,” Flora said. “Exactly,” Bea said. “You look more naked like this than if you took them off.” Flora felt her knees touch, not noticing that her legs had just uncontrollably turned inward until she did. Bea’s highly specific commands were making Flora realize she enjoyed things she’d never even thought about before.

Bea looked down at what Flora made no attempt to cover, even though the most rational and the least rational parts of her brain both told her she should, in spite of the clear nature of her current situation. “I never said you could get hard,” Bea said. Flora was slightly flustered. “I don’t…” she sputtered.

“I know you can’t control it,” Bea said. “You’ll just have to atone for it in some other way. Put your hands on the desk. All the way, on the other side. Palms on the edge, until your fingers bend over it.” Bea’s desk was larger than most, so this put Flora in a fairly deep bend.

“Let’s see what you’ve got here,” Bea said lasciviously. Buck squeezed her ass like she was evaluating its market price as a cut of meat. “Nice for a skinny little thing,” she said. She cupped Flora’s balls, then ran a finger on her other hand from the base of them almost to her anus. “No pussy,” she said, “but that’s never been a problem for me. I’m fully equipped, in case you’re wondering.” Behind Bea’s bulge, when Flora was immersed in her crotch, she had noticed considerable dampness, so she was well-aware Bea was doubly blessed. “Do you like anal sex?” Bea inquired. “Receiving, to be clear.”

Flora was actually not all that experienced in that area. She occasionally used fairly dainty toys, but only when she was bored with her hand, or her occasional use of a bargain-bin Fleshlight knockoff. She had always been less interested in fucking than in being fucked, but she found anal uncomfortable the one or two times she had tried it. She adored giving head, to any set of genitals, but she always felt like she was missing out on what people made sound like it ought to be the “main event” of her sex life. She hadn’t been with too many women in general, and she felt inexperienced on multiple levels.

“I will if it’s you,” Flora said. Bea laughed, not finding this evasive answer as charming. “You don’t like it,” she said. “I’ve never had much luck with it,” Flora clarified. “She just wanted to stick it in. I don’t think we did It right.”

“’She,’” Bea snickered. “My God, Flora. You’ve only had one dick up there? I’m actually flattered. You’re a very exclusive establishment. Stand up. Turn around.”

Flora did as she was told. “Undo the next button on my shirt,” Bea said. Flora did so, with her usual polite efficiency, even taking care not to touch Ms. Buck’s breasts, as she was unsure she was permitted to do so. “I wish I could walk around like this more often,” Buck remarked. “You may have another, if you want.” Flora was uncertain what the correct response was, but weighed making the wrong move against how badly she wanted even a glimpse of Ms. Buck’s legendary breasts. She undid another button, revealing just enough of her chest to turn “cleavage” into “exposure.” “Would you like to really see them?” Bea asked. “I would,” Flora replied. “That will be a good reward for you later, then,” Buck replied. “Let’s see what it takes for you to earn something like that.”

Ms. Buck unzipped the side of her skirt, and removed it. Given how well-endowed she appeared to be, it was unlikely the swell of her package as it stood now was her full rigidity. “I think you’ve earned a glimpse of this, though,” Bea said, turning around to reveal something Flora had never even dared hope she might actually see, Beatrix Buck’s ass covered only by panties and nylons. “I’ve always felt like it was too big,” she said, “but people keep insisting it’s one of my best features, and I try not to be offended.” “It’s beyond perfect,” Flora said, voice just above a whisper. Without thinking, Flora reached forward and laid her hands on Buck’s hips, caressing downward and around to feel Bea’s butt with her own hands.

“I never said you could touch it,” Bea said. Flora couldn’t see the satisfied smirk on her lips. “I’m so sorry,” Flora said. “I couldn’t help it.” “You couldn’t help it?” Bea said. “That’s not something an obedient girl says to her lady.” “I’m sorry,” Flora said, half a sob rising in her throat. “Please don’t be mad.”

Bea heard sincere anguish in Flora’s voice, and realized her teasing might not be taken as such by the inexperienced Flora. Not wanting to tip her encouraging hand too much, she simply said, “You have permission to touch it.”

Flora hesitated for several seconds before feeling she deserved the privilege of exploring the most luscious ass she had ever seen with her pathetic, disobedient hands. Once she had cleared that threshold, though, her fingers sunk into that smooth but soft flesh like she was hungry. Bea felt Flora’s undiluted lust again, getting a taste of how truly enraptured she was with her for the first time since she had buried her face in Buck’s crotch just to get lost in her scent. When Flora’s hands wandered close enough to Bea’s hips that she could easily reach them, Ms. Buck grabbed Flora’s hands, pulled them onto her stomach, and said “Come closer.”

There wasn’t much closer Flora could come without making contact between Bea’s rear and her own crotch. Flora allowed herself to skirt that line, before Bea made her intentions clearer by repeating, “Closer.” Flora pressed herself fully into Bea’s back, erect cock being pushed upward, squeezed between the bottom of Flora’s torso and the taller Ms. Buck’s voluminous butt. Flora managed to restrain herself enough to fight back her natural inclination, in this position, to vigorously hump away, rubbing herself against this godlike peach. She buried her face in the back of Bea’s right shoulder, breathing so hard Bea momentarily wondered if she was crying. She wasn’t entirely wrong. Flora was overcome with not just lust but absolute joy. What was happening to Flora was indescribably sublime, but what transcended even that was the knowledge that this was happening because Beatrix Buck wanted it to happen. It was like walking into a church you’d knelt at in prayer every Sunday, only to hear God’s voice in your very soul and be told that, all along, she had also been worshipping you. It was inevitable that Flora Entrada would desire Beatrix Buck. It was nearly a law of nature, a metaphysical certitude. But it was, to Flora, nothing short of miraculous that Bea would desire her as well.

“I think you deserve a chance to prove your devotion to me,” Bea said. “Get on your knees.”

Bea turned around, squatted slightly, and tugged at the waistband of her pantyhose, pulling it forward until it hung just below Flora’s chin, putting Flora’s face in the gap between the hosiery and the area they’d been covering since Bea got dressed this morning. The scent of Bea was almost painful in its purity. Ms. Buck let her adoring pet take in a few good, long drinks of her aroma. “You’re welcome,” Bea purred. Bea pulled the pantyhose down until she was able to then bring her panties down enough to free her now fully erect majesty. Her smell was naturally what hit Flora first, followed by awe at its size, then the anxiety that accompanied that awe. She expected to have difficulties when she eventually gave up her ass to Bea, but right now just the prospect of putting it in her mouth seemed daunting.

“You will be sucking your boss’ cock now,” Bea said.

Flora delicately extended her mouth over three inches or so of Bea’s great and terrible prize, but definitely less than four. With loving maneuvers of her lips and tongue, she tried to ease her way into this process by making those initial inches as pleasurable to Bea as she could manage. She knew she’d have to do better eventually, but she wanted to buy a few precious seconds to work up the nerve to move further. She quickly ran out of mouth, and began having to carefully adjust the angle at which the monster was entering her mouth to keep it from triggering her gag reflex without even going into her throat. She managed a few expert strokes up and down the length she could currently handle with her adoring tongue and lips, but rapidly reached the point where she had to take on more or admit defeat and confine herself to working the first half of Bea’s nine-odd inches and considerable girth.

“How are you doing down there?” Bea asked, sensing this girl might be at or near her limit. “You’re certainly talented,” she said, which Flora took as mild condescension, and her condescension as a challenge. Flora rested at Bea’s tip for a second, sucking hard in a way she could feel was making the stoic Bea squirm a little. Then she began to head back into the fray, going a good amount past where she had before. She was nowhere near the “finish line” neither woman seriously expected her to clear, but she had made considerable progress. It was not easy progress, though. Every time she reached that region, it triggered a pronounced semi-gag that made her pull back fairly quickly. “I do love that sound,” Bea moaned, “but try not to hurt yourself.”

Flora made a quick decision. She felt comfortable going this far, she thought. If she was going to gag anyway, she calculated, why not make the gagging worth it? Returning to her Hoover-worthy suction job at Bea’s utmost tip, she returned to her deep dives with total determination, ramming her head forward until the entire item was stowed away in her mouth and throat. She immediately began to find the holes in her confident “if I’m gagging a little, I can gag all the way” logic when she felt something that made her body send up warning flares declaring not “I think I might throw up” but rather “I am choking, please help me.” In the state of panic this threw her body into entirely involuntarily, Flora momentarily forgot to simply pull back, and spent almost five seconds fully immersed before throwing herself backward so she could gasp for air and concentrate on staving off full gastric heaving. It took another five before she even noticed there were tears streaming from her eyes.

“Don’t push yourself,” Bea cautioned. “Are you alright?”

“I can’t do that very long,” Flora said. “What do you mean?” Bea asked, a faint note of concern in her voice.

Flora couldn’t answer right away, because she had a cock in her mouth.

Flora dove all the way down Bea’s cock once more, this time not pausing at the extreme point she had gotten stuck at but rather bouncing back up to a safer position almost immediately. She continued this method, breaking up her chin-to-the-balls time into mere moments at once. She was still pushing herself to the limit, if not honestly past it, but in, pardon the expression, bite-size chunks she could handle. That sickly gulping sound was still accompanying each trip south, but Flora was getting used to the fleeting sensation, and Bea, worried as she was that her eager new partner was pushing herself too hard, still had a wicked little appetite for the sound and the feeling of an overzealous lover’s throat spasming around her challenging length.

“That’s enough,” Bea said, making herself put a stop to Flora’s masochistic display in spite of its pleasures. It wasn’t until Flora pulled away entirely that she started coughing fiercely, finally becoming aware of the cumulative toll of her thousand tiny strangulations, which she had managed to unconsciously suppress when she was distracted by her task. “Are you okay?” Bea inquired once more. Flora answered, not yet able to resume speaking, by placing an affectionate hand on Bea’s thigh.

“I’m fine,” she eventually croaked. “I’m fine.”

“Sit in the chair,” Bea said sweetly. “I think you’ve earned your treat for the day.”

Flora did as instructed, as she had been doing religiously for most of the past four years. She was still unbearably erect. Bea bent over the chair a bit, sticking her half-clothed chest in Flora’s face. “Would you like to undo the rest yourself?” she asked. This time, Flora didn’t second-guess herself and dutifully undid Bea’s buttons at the greatest pace she thought wouldn’t seem overeager.

Bea stood straight again, a position that only made that chest more prominent, especially from below. Flora had never seen herself as submissive, necessarily, but she had noticed lately in the pornography she’d been perusing more and more frequently that, in addition to the woman all falling into a certain older, curvier, more imposing type that she no longer pretended didn’t form an obvious pattern, her favorite images were always from a low angle, if not directly below the subject. She had been wondering why this perspective was so intriguing, and there were multiple answers. For one, it was quite flattering, if you prefer a soft, curvy body, especially one starting to show the first signs of full maturity, making everything appear bigger in the right places and highlighting every tiny fold and crevice. It tended to put the subject’s pussy, or cock, or both, front and center in a way that was less “here’s my cervix,” as that closeness tended to feel from other angles, and more “I’m about to sit on your face, which will be quite fun for you if you like that sort of thing, but I’m not terribly bothered either way.” That towering, almost menacing air also made you feel more immersed in her world, like she was almost really there hanging over you. It made you feel small and helpless, but like you were still an active participant. You weren’t really tiny and weak if her making you feel tiny and weak was arousing to her. In a way, you were both the pathetic worm she enjoyed making you feel like you were, and the center of her universe.

But then there’s the tits. Flora vehemently believed breasts just looked better from below. You felt their size more, and especially their weight. The shot from below was sort of a litmus test for great breasts, making small breasts actually appear smaller but large ones appear larger. Even when the model didn’t have a dick, it sort of made Flora feel like she did, imparting that sense of something powerful hanging over you, jutting out from the front of her like the guns of a battleship.

The first time Flora saw Bea’s breasts clad only in her perfectly engineered bra, she was seeing them from below, and she couldn’t have asked for anything better than that. The larger a set the woman has, the more this looking-up-begging angle bestowed real, visceral gravity to their scale. Seeing Ms. Buck’s twin zeppelins from below made the breath leave Flora’s body. She felt a spasm just behind her cock that she was legitimately worried would turn into a premature end to her painfully ready state.

“My, my,” Ms. Buck teased. “I could make you do anything with these, couldn’t I?” Not that they could go much higher than her bra was pushing them, but Bea taunted her patient protégé by fondling them herself, lifting them and digging her fingers into her own flesh. “I have never seen somebody look at these the way you do.”

Ms. Buck stopped her teasing and reached behind her back, initiating the moment Flora honestly wasn’t sure was ever going to come. For all Flora knew, Bea enjoyed playing with her food so much there were some basic things Bea would leave entirely off the table. Flora had held out hope she would get to see the wonderland inside Ms. Buck’s bra, but she had mentally prepared herself for continuing to just steal glimpses. The last hook released, and Bea grasped the bottoms of each cup with her hands, relishing just one more second of torment before lifting the garment away and pulling it off over her head.

As with Bea’s personal scent, her breasts managed to both resemble every fantasy Flora had ever had of this moment and surprise her. Bea’s deliberately anachronistic navy blue bullet bra certainly did give her a lift, but not as much as Flora had assumed. Ms. Buck’s bounty definitely had weight to it, but they sat a good bit higher than Flora would have assumed. Her bra was not the true marvel of physics, but the temptress herself. Her areolas were larger than Flora pictured, but not overly so. They were perfectly round, and naturally hung close together, rather than splaying out much to the sides. Flora harbored no illusions that she wasn’t a degenerate size queen when it came to a lady’s first and third measurements, as well as height, thighs, and a few other choice numbers. She had always secretly believed “perfect breasts” were an absurd idea, not just because bigger was almost always simply better but because there were so many different kinds she was drawn to. Asking her to choose between impossibly perky and a womanly droop, between all the beautiful areolas and nipples on God’s green Earth, or even between jaw-droppingly natural or exquisitely bimbo-fake seemed borderline cruel. Flora wasn’t sure if it was her emotional attachment to Bea as an avatar of perfect feminine beauty, the fact that such a goddess was in front of her and deliberately showing her such a form, or that her body actually was just that incredible, but Flora had finally seen a truly perfect bosom, and it was hanging over her face. She decided to savor this feeling, sincerely disbelieving that anything would make her feel this way again. It wouldn’t be long before the obvious next step toward heaven proved her wrong.

Flora clicked her lips together trying to make words appear, and eventually managed to get out, “You’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me” without shedding the tears welling in her eyes.

Despite how grand and total this sounds, it was a poor replacement for the words that Flora had intended to say in the pregnant pause before she uttered that compromised second draft, which were simply “I love you.” If she had known that Beatrix Buck had immediately divined this intention the moment she said what she had permitted herself to say instead, Flora would have dropped to the floor weeping, petrified that she had spoiled a moment that she had not been exaggerating when she said it was the most blissful she’d ever experienced.

Ms. Buck bent down a little further, hanging her Aphroditean breasts in front of Flora’s face, and gave her a polite but lingering kiss on the forehead. Bea was less consciously aware of what sentiment she was hiding behind her own half-gesture, but what she had instinctively wanted to do was lift Flora’s chin, permitting direct eye contact Flora had been avoiding scrupulously during her emotional moment, and meet the girl’s desperate, coded plea of affection with a knowing “I love you too.”

Bea got onto her knees before Flora, and leaned forward, pressing her opulent palace of motherly flesh into Flora’s crotch, cleavage instantly enveloping Flora’s cock. Another thought entered Flora’s head that would remain unspoken: please don’t dangle what you’re doing in front of me if this isn’t real. She didn’t need to worry.

Bea used her hands to wrangle her tidal waves of shaking bosom back into two spheres pressed into each side of Flora’s erection. “If I tell you that you may look at my butt,” Bea scolded in a mock-serious tone, “that does not mean you may touch it, understood?” “Yes Ms. Buck,” Flora gasped. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Buck.”

“Other than that little accident, you did very well today,” Bea said, the maternal lilt of her voice now entirely genuine. “And I’m sure there’s nothing you would like more as a reward than this.” Bea had chosen correctly. “Just sit back and enjoy this while I do all the work, little lady,” Bea said, “but I’m still the boss around here, so you’re not going to cum until I say you can, is that clear?”

“Yes, Ms. Buck,” Flora squeaked. Bea began to apply upward and downward motion, her hands pressing into the sides of her breasts tight enough to impart orderly direction on an avalanche of soft skin that had appeared too vast and too fluid to control. As usual, Buck’s stunning pair proved a delicate balance of contradictions, too heavy and too light, too firm and too soft, jiggling uncontrollably one moment and pumping like a precision piston the next.

Flora’s legs were almost vibrating, reverberating with constant tiny twitches and trembles from not only the sensation of Bea’s breasts rubbing her, but the sight of it, and the fact of it. The physical pleasure of it was wonderful, but Flora’s fascination with this act had always been symbolic above all else. It was the ultimate indulgence for a lover of busty women. Flora’s interest in thicker, fuller women had begun less as a visual stimulus and more as a tactile one, as she suspected did her obsession with pantyhose. She had previously harbored the same appreciation for a healthy bust or a full butt most people did, but her tastes began to run toward more extreme expressions of that figure and toward woman who were generally more plush all over when she had an experience that made her reconsider what truly aroused her.

On the surface, it was an innocent hug. She ran into Ashton, a friend she hadn’t seen since they graduated high school, and they hugged. Flora was rarely the hugging type, but Ashton was, though she rarely practiced this habit on the shy Flora. They were overjoyed to see each other though, having been fairly close friends before they started to lose touch. Ashton had always been chubby, and she had only gained weight since then. When they embraced, the feeling of Ashton’s body in her arms, and pressed against her own, made her feel a way she only felt when she found somebody highly attractive. Ash was cute, but Flora had never seen her that way. She held the hug for just a second too long, and when she pulled away, she looked at her friend and suddenly saw her in a new way. Ash had ample assets front and back, but her round belly and other fatty areas had tricked Flora into seeing them as just more fat, like most people did. In fact, by her previous standards, Ashton’s butt and boobs were actually too large for her themselves.

Seeing her now, though, every inch of jiggly softness seemed appealing. When she looked at Ash, she didn’t just see her, she felt her, along her arms, grasped in her fingers, belly and breasts pushing against her own. The thrill she got from that sensation even made her rethink how visually appealing she found her friend. Their whole conversation, she was distracted, even feeling guilty for sexualizing somebody she had only seen as a friend before. They exchanged contact information, and Flora put aside her guilt as they parted, going in for another long hug. She held her even tighter, savoring the feeling of as much of her as she could politely touch. She felt a distinct movement between her legs, and was tempted to break their embrace in case Ashton could feel what was happening, but was too enchanted to give her up that quickly. She considered calling Ash a few days later, this time to arrange a meeting she could turn into a proper date. Flora rarely acted on impulses to make the first move, though. She sometimes regretted not making that call, and until Bea came to dominate her sexual thoughts entirely, the pictures on Ashton’s Facebook and Instagram had been frequent companions in her efforts to relieve her sexual frustration.

If your fascination with a large pair of natural breasts was tactile, a fondness for their squishy pliability, their simultaneous heft and softness, then having your cock between them was the logical conclusion of this infatuation. Being between Ms. Buck’s was another level entirely. This situation once figured heavily into Flora’s fantasy life, but she had eventually become so consumed with this as the ultimate experience that she actually had to make herself stop imagining it almost entirely, worried about how obsessive her need for it had become. She’d done this before, mind you. She’d been with women who were sufficiently endowed to make it happen, and she’d loved it. But enough was not enough for Flora in anything, particularly this. She didn’t just want to get jerked off by a girl using her perky D-cups like they’re little more than gloves, she wanted to disappear entirely into a vast surplus of flesh. She didn’t want to so much as see her own cock during the entire process, no matter how her partner’s breasts moved. She wanted to be enveloped, devoured.

Flora was so dead to the world in the grip of Bea’s chest that she had just been staring straight ahead for the majority of the service. She snapped out of it once her climax began to build, and finally looked down at Bea again. She feared that the sight of what was happening to her would make her unable to control the orgasm she owed it to Ms. Buck to contain, but what she noticed first was that Bea was looking straight up at her. Their eyes locked, Bea seeing with perfect clarity what she was doing to Flora. For a few seconds, the stern but mischievous sneer Bea wore during their sexual dalliance had faded. Bea was making the same face of enthralled adoration that Flora imagined she must be making herself. Flora couldn’t comprehend what about herself might inspire desire in somebody like Ms. Buck. Ms. Buck, of course, had a fondness for skinny, younger, maybe even naïve or bashful girls, qualities that provoked an instinct in her simultaneously predatory and protective. Bea had actually been interested in Flora for a long time, but both wanted Flora to come out of her shell, and found it unlikely she’d find it in herself to make the first move. She was relieved when Flora had begun to open up this morning, even if she was unsure the young woman could handle her.

But most of all, Bea was utterly stricken by the look in Flora’s eyes, by the unbridled desire this girl had for her. It wasn’t even just sexual. It was devotion, it was total willingness to become one. It was the word neither of them had managed to coax from their lips, and it was absolute. This girl worshipped her, and not because she wanted something. She could see in Flora’s gaze the despair in her heart being released. Flora had given up on the idea of approaching Buck entirely. It was beyond her. She could never want her. And the moment she had let her dream slip away, the reality found her. Bea saw the utterly transformative effect this had on Flora, particularly in this moment. Beatrix Buck was no stranger to being wanted this badly, but she wasn’t sure she had ever been loved this completely.

“Are you close?” Bea asked. There was no intent in her voice, no command. She asked nothing of her partner. What Bea wanted to know, in all the naughty schoolteacher bluster and nylon-wrapped authority, was if she was doing enough for Flora. If she was pleasing her. “I can keep going,” Flora said, “I can do it.”

Bea heard in Flora’s voice a sincere desire to be guided by Bea. Perhaps not dominated, not controlled, but led by the hand through this garden of treasures.

“Ten,” Bea said, drawing Flora’s upward-tilted head back down to meet her eyes. “Nine.”

Flora would have had no problem lasting through Bea’s countdown if it weren’t for the countdown itself. The pressure of it, but also the exhilarating challenge, was almost too much. She really had to muster her strength for this.

“Eight,” Bea said. She slowed her motions slightly, but hoped it wasn’t enough for Flora to notice she was helping her endure. Bea could see what her new challenge was doing to her. “Seven.”

“Ms. Buck,” Flora said.

“Six.”

Flora struggled to find words, apart from the deadly three she was dancing around, to convey her joy at what this majestic woman was giving her. “Five.”

“Ms. Buck,” Flora groaned.

“Four,” Bea said. “You’re almost there, you can make it.”

“Thank you,” Flora said.

“I believe in you, Flora,” Bea said. “Three.”

“I mean for all of it,” Flora said. “Thank you.”

Bea was given pause, but quickly said “Two.” She was smitten with this girl’s appreciation and admiration, but she also didn’t want to torment her any longer than necessary. She could see Flora was about to absolutely collapse.

“One. Almost there.”  
“I…”

Bea hadn’t thought until this moment about what the proper words were to signal Flora’s freedom. With anybody else, it would be something filthy, some exhortation to “Do it, blow your load all over my tits,” or a taunting “Your little dick can squirt some cum now, you fucking baby.” Bea had no desire to make this prurient. This was an act of fondness and fondness alone. Bea knew she had to say something before Flora entirely lost her mind, having taken her right to the edge of release. She couldn’t freeze now, so with enamored eyes and a trembling lower lip, she blurted out the first word that came to mind.

“Flora,” Bea said, “please.”

Flora, ever the professional, jammed most of her right hand into her open mouth, stifling a scream that she knew would have alerted the rest of the office to what was going on. She bit down on her fingers just up against the knuckle until it hurt. A release that bested any she had ever known radiated through her. Bea, from just under her nose to the plateau of her breasts as they mounded on top of Flora’s thighs, was absolutely whitewashed. Nearly a dozen jets, the first few quite voluminous, had emerged from depths within Flora she wasn’t sure she knew she had.

Bea basked silently in the adorable afterglow of Flora’s exhaustion as she slumped into the chair, heart pounding. Flora would have broken the silence herself, but could barely speak. Bea eventually found the words she felt Flora needed. “You were incredible,” she said. Flora still struggled to see herself as having anything to offer the divine Beatrix Buck, and was content to just blush silently.

Bea cleaned herself off with a great quantity of tissues while Flora regained her composure. “I think it goes without saying that I’m highly interested in doing this again,” Bea said, “if you think you can handle that.” “What do you mean?” Flora asked.

“I’m sure this was enjoyable for you, but sometimes an enjoyable thing can still be overwhelming if it’s too intense,” Bea said. “Could you imagine yourself doing this every day? It would be exhausting.”

“I mean…are we done?” Flora asked.

“You demonstrated that you had finished quite conclusively,” Bea said with a slight giggle. “There’s no much ambiguity in the carpet under that chair.”

“But you didn’t,” Flora said.

Bea paused, once again trying to articulate a frequent sentiment in a less profane form than she was used to. “What you just did,” Bea said, “that was what I do this for. That was my moment.”

“Do you not…do stuff? Do you just, not finish?” Flora asked. “Of course I do,” Bea said. “But I don’t have to do every single thing I like every single time.”

“That’s not the same thing, though,” Flora said. “Do you really not need to…finish things off?”

“I didn’t want to be crass,” Bea said, “but look at the options we have. I don’t want to just finish myself off in front of you. I don’t want your hands, that’s a bit pedestrian. Your mouth is wonderful, but doing enough of that to sate me would damn near kill you. And even if you could get another erection, you penetrating me is…not what this is. Not even with a finger. And having my pussy eaten with no stimulation for my cock but my hand is just miserably dull, no offense to what I’m sure are your diligent talents.”

“You sort of left something out there,” Flora said. “I did,” Bea said. “We aren’t there yet. Physically or otherwise.”

Flora gulped, but couldn’t contain what she wanted to say this time. “I know this isn’t something where I get to just say, ‘I want you to,’ but I want you to.”

“I really do feel like you might need some preparation for that. Just on a practical, physical level,” Bea said. “But I also have a strict set of procedures for how I do these things. I break things up over time. What we just did can be very intense, and I don’t mean physically. I don’t want to move things too quickly. After all we just did together I know that might seem strange, but I’ve seen how these relationships end when that’s the way they start.”

She said “relationship.”

“I knew what you meant,” Flora whispered. “When I say I want this, that’s what I’m saying I want.”

Bea turned toward Flora, who was still slumped into the chair, and walked toward her. She gently placed her hand, just the tips of her fingers really, on Flora’s again. “I understand why you’re saying that,” she said. “It really warms my heart that you are so dedicated to this so quickly, but that’s how it always happens.”

Flora turned the palm of her hand upward, letting her fingers intertwine with Bea’s. "I don't want to try to…give you orders," Flora said, "because I know at least that much about how this works. But I also know that if we don't do this, I will walk out of your office today, and I will know that I've only ever let one person inside me, and it wasn't you." Those last four words carried a noticeable warble that marked another moment where Flora’s throat struggled to cough up words through a tightness in her chest that accompanied the haze of water obscuring her vision. She held the tears back again, but couldn’t stifle the audible sniffle she was trying to hide from Bea.

Bea did not respond, because neither yes nor no was an option to her. Flora simply stood up, turned toward Bea’s desk, and assumed the far-stretched position she had been ordered to take previously. Knowing Bea was taller than she was, she made the one alteration of keeping her legs closer together, putting her entrance at a more attainable height for Ms. Buck.

“I want to face you,” Bea said, her own voice also quieter than normal.

“Ms. Buck,” Flora said, “if you don’t want me to get too attached to you too quickly, then we can do this, but I certainly can’t look in your eyes while we do it.” Bea’s heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you like this,” Bea said. “Is that true,” Flora asked, “or do you just think I don’t?”

“I know that you would like it. I also know that you would want the first time we do this to be…not this,” Bea said. “You would want to look in my eyes the first time. You’re just afraid of doing it right here and right now.”

“What I really, truly want right now is to be used like a fuckdoll by a woman who owns every part of me, even if my heart is one of them,” Flora said, “but what I want doesn’t matter. Except that’s also what you want, so please tell me you’re willing to subject me to whatever you want to do to me, because I can’t handle making love right now but I desperately need to be fucked and you haven’t cum inside your new toy yet. If I didn’t want to be treated the way you treat the others I wouldn’t have let you use me as a footstool even if I wanted you to. I know what this is. It’s more than that for me but I don’t care if it is for you or not. Whatever else you want from me, you want the power too. And I’m here because I want to give it to you.”

“I would know if you were lying to me,” Bea said, “so tell me you’re not going to regret this moment happening with you bent over my desk like a streetwalker.”

“Ms. Buck,” Flora groaned through rapid breaths, “the first time you’re inside me and you’re looking in my eyes, that will be our first time. This is nothing.”

Beatrix inhaled once, and exhaled once. Then she grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk, snipped a gash in the front of her pantyhose, pulled her panties away from the steely full bloom of her desire, and brushed her tip against the right cheek of Flora’s ass.

“To your right, there is a drawer. The top one, you should be able to reach it. There’s a blue bottle inside. I very much need that,” Bea calmly stated.

Flora retrieved the item, and she could hear nigh-sickening wet slaps as Ms. Buck applied copious amounts of lubrication to herself. She heard softer sounds afterward as she applied it somewhere else, then felt something narrow but not that narrow enter her. “I need to make sure you are lubricated as well,” Bea said, “and that you’re ready to accept something.”

“Is that your finger?” Flora asked. “That’s two fingers,” Bea said, “which means this will be a little less uncomfortable than I expected. But I don’t remember saying you could speak, little lady.” Flora shivered as Bea lightly tapped her prostate before leaving.

“If it feels uncomfortable, say ‘yellow.’ It will probably feel uncomfortable, so I will have to ease into you slowly. But it shouldn’t hurt. If it hurts, say ‘red,’ and I will exit as quickly as I safely can. You are not to speak otherwise unless I speak to you. Are we clear?” Bea asked. “Yes, Ms. Buck,” Flora said.

Flora felt Bea press against her hole. Quicker than she expected, Bea’s tip was inside. It felt odd, but not in a bad way. “It’s not much further until my widest part, does this feel alright?” Bea asked. “Yes, Ms. Buck,” Flora said.

Bea pushed in further, little by little. Once that widest point had made its way in, Flora quickly said “Yellow.” Bea stopped, then stayed still for a few seconds. “Does it still feel uncomfortable?” she asked. “Little better now,” Flora said. “If you don’t say ‘red,’ I am going to continue. If you say ‘yellow,’ I will continue with more caution, but I will continue. Alright?” Bea clarified. “Yes, Ms. Buck” is all Flora said.

With the hardest part over with regard to girth, things were advancing nicely, Flora finally adjusting to the sensation enough for its alien novelty to not overwhelm the pleasure. She started sincerely enjoying being penetrated for the first time in quite a while, and the first time ever with another person.

Quickly, though, girth ceased to be the only concern. Flora was beginning to pass the point of distance at which she had been entered before, her previous partner not having been as long as Ms. Buck nor having inserted herself completely. It was not painful, nor would she necessarily call “yellow.” It was more that she could feel herself entering new territory. Or rather, Ms. Buck was entering new territory.

This feeling of fullness quickly went from anxious to thrilling, though. Taking Bea deeper than she had ever taken anything or anyone brought back that wonderful feeling of giving up control, like Ms. Buck had already claimed every inch of her body and now she was going to do the same inside her. She belonged to her. She was a condom, a glove. She was a vessel to be poured into.

Flora felt Bea pull back out of her, not at the slow pace with which she had entered but still measured and careful. “Is something wrong?” Flora asked. Bea permitted this interruption, as “Is something wrong?” is a question you typically ought to answer when asked by the person you’re sodomizing. “No, are you alright?” Bea asked. “Why did you pull it out?” Flora asked. “That’s how you fuck somebody, isn’t it?” Bea answered, slightly confused. “You can put all of it in,” Flora said, “I was doing fine.” “I did,” Bea answered, “that’s why I started moving.”

Flora was gobsmacked. She had little concept just from the feeling of how much of Ms. Buck was inside her, but she definitely knew how large her cock was, with ample evidence not just from her eyes but her mouth and throat. She could hardly believe she had handled the entire thing that well.

Bea began moving back and forth, quite slowly at first. “Yellow,” Flora said as Bea picked up the pace. “What’s wrong?” Bea asked, clear concern in her voice. “It’s fine, I just don’t think I can do it that quickly yet.” The feeling of having Bea’s entire length inserted and removed was not uncomfortable, but it was certainly intense enough that experiencing it several times in quick succession triggered her instinct to panic. People often say, sometimes positively, that anal sex feels “wrong,” that the body makes its stance on which way things out to move through the rectum quite clear. Flora had not yet entirely overcome this feeling. She liked the wrongness, just like she liked every aspect of how it felt, but it was still hard to ignore her urge to question the feeling subconsciously, despite her brain being logically aware of what was happening and why.

It took a few more slow thrusts before Flora conquered this instinct. It simply became too good for even her animal impulses to second-guess. Once she was past the “make sure this is going to work” phase, it occurred to her all at once what was happening. Before, she was too focused on details and practicalities, but for the first time she truly felt like Beatrix Buck, the earthly angel of business, power and sex, was fucking her. Now that they had progressed from the opening preparations to the main event, Flora was awash in rapturous surrender. The only problem was that, as far as Bea was concerned, this was not the event.

Flora felt Bea gradually ramp up her thrusts until she had hit full speed, full intensity. Then she kept ramping. The more-than-sufficient amount of lubrication that had made it so easy for Ms. Buck to enter the inexperienced Flora was now facilitating a greater degree of force than Bea could put into a more seasoned recipient, with whom she did a bit less preparation. Her most skilled bottoms were often women who relished being stretched, frequently by objects much bigger than even Bea’s cock. She went lighter on the lube with them, not just because their openings were more relaxed but because they liked the friction, the force, the strain of their holes opening for her. It was an endurance challenge for them. The devil on Buck’s shoulder loved watching them twitch and grunt from the effort, even at the cost of some of the sensation on her end. Bea was a great lover of luxurious pleasure, but most of the things she did weren’t done for the physical sensation. She thrived more than anything on the spectacle, and the knowledge that the woman she was defiling and tormenting wanted it even more than she did, either because this was what made them feel true joy or because they would let the phenomenal Beatrix Buck do anything she wanted to them.

But Flora’s frictionless, sodden passage didn’t feel resistant, didn’t feel tense. Bea felt less like she was invading the tight reluctance of an anus and more like she was in the inviting hug of a wet, ravenous cunt. With true submissives, Buck preferred anal. It inherently made her feel like something was being given up to her, even if her partner was an absolute fiend for the act. It felt, on some deep level, despite the great fun being had, not like pleasure being received with gratitude, but like punishing somebody who felt relief in the act simply because they felt they deserved it. Vaginal intercourse was usually reserved for peers. There was no power dynamic in it. It was simple bliss on all sides. Bea inwardly questioned whether she had deliberately used a surplus of lube, even compared to the great need of an inexperienced partner, because she felt a desire to make this an exchange of pure pleasure between lovers. Flora would not appreciate this, she told herself. Flora might not have come to Ms. Buck for domination and punishment, just unrestrained lust for her body and spirit, but Flora wanted most of all to fit Bea like a glove, to be the perfect tool for every activity Bea enjoyed most, and once she was in the silken grip of her boss she found that perhaps there was indeed an underlying power play behind her attraction to older, taller, curvier, classier women in stern librarian hosiery and too-tight business attire.

Was she so awkward? Was she really shy? Or did she simply shrink from being outgoing because what she’d always wanted was to be taken, to be swept off her feet by somebody more concerned with her desire for Flora than Flora’s interest in her? Flora, perhaps, did not want to simply demonstrate affection and have it politely reciprocated. She wanted to be the one who was wanted.

Bea had read these stages of acceptance in Flora’s pleading eyes and anxious pout like they were tattooed onto her. Bea had changed Flora. She had built up her chrysalis over the four years she had worked here, but with her adoration so accepted she had begun to emerge. Even Beatrix Buck was unaccustomed to having quite that effect on somebody.

Flora’s wonderfully depleted cock had started to stir again. It wasn’t fully erect, but her use by Bea was beginning to have an effect. When Flora started to moan a little differently, Bea Had reached down to check on this development. Bea didn’t want to leave Flora frustrated once she was done herself, but she needed to give the slavishly devoted Flora license to enjoy herself, and the surest way to do that was to make it seem like it was all for her.

“I’m not going to give you my load until you coax another squirt out of your little dick for me, little lady” Bea hissed. “Touch it. Jerk yourself off while your new owner relieves herself with your ass.”

“Yes, Ms. Buck,” Flora squealed. She moved her left hand from its white-knuckle grip on the far edge of the desk, rapidly stroking herself like she was her own master, a demanding sadist wringing a ninth or tenth forced orgasm out of an aching, utterly drained pet who couldn’t possibly manage another shot. Flora’s heart and soul were absolutely melted by Bea’s affection, but she got a different, more purely sexual kind of thrill out of the moments where Ms. Buck managed to put aside her newfound tenderness and subject Flora to what felt like genuine cruelty and dismissal for her own pleasure.

Bea began to regret her stipulation as a climax of her own began to well up inside her. Bea often took going through an entire session without feeling the need to release as a point of pride. In her mind, the orgasm she pumped out of her willing victim was her own. That was the release. The inner tension that built through it all was satisfying itself, and when she decided to indulge herself later it was magnified greatly. Beatrix was in for a hell of a ride this time, but the proximity between that play and her release this time was great enough that it put a significant dent in her usual total control. She was in a critical state as Flora worked tirelessly to work out her own on-demand finish.

When Flora said “May I cum, Ms. Buck?” Bea was so relieved she almost dropped the ball on the spot. “You have permission to bust, you obedient little slut,” Bea cooed. Flora’s legs jerked, her knees bending instantaneously to a severe angle, lifting her feet clean off the floor, Bea’s hips being the only thing supporting Flora below the waist. The poor girl was shaking hypothermically as she shot a watery salvo straight down onto Bea’s opulent but frequently cleaned carpet. Holding back just a few seconds longer than needed to maintain the pretense that this was a test for Flora, not for herself, Bea eventually let herself fall below the crashing waves of a sense-dissolving orgasm. Once she was in it, though, her stony façade started to erode again. She shook, she moaned, she panted with little control, her own legs also going rubbery. Fortunately, Bea was leaning slightly forward and Flora was falling backward, so their lack of control over the weight of their bodies sort of canceled out, buying them a second to regain their equilibrium before they could tumble onto the floor.

Bea slowly pulled out, making sure Flora stayed bent over until her opening returned to its usual tight squeeze. “It’s still going to drip out,” Bea said, “especially with the amount I let out. But I thought you’d appreciate holding my gift inside you as long as you could. Put your panties on.”

“Wait,” Flora said, standing up as slowly as she could and holding her legs together. She turned around. As requested, Flora was still wearing her bra. “I want you to see me,” Flora said. “I want to be yours. I want you to see all of me. All of what belongs to you.” Flora had learned quickly how to make a request for her own sake sound like a gesture of surrender.

Bea reached behind Flora’s back herself and undid her bra, lifting it off her shoulders. Flora’s breasts were small, but had that youthful upturned presentation Bea found deliciously girlish. “Hold on, I’m leaking,” Flora said, pulling her panties back on in a delicate balancing act that involved keeping her shaky legs as close together as she could and still slide them on. “I just wanted to be naked for you for at least a moment.” “Except the socks,” Bea said with a slight laughing lilt. “I like the socks,” Flora said, “they make me look all innocent and bashful. I bet you’d like to fuck me sometime with just some frilly ankle socks and little Mary Jane schoolgirl shoes on. Pigtails, maybe.” “Training bra,” Bea quipped. “Do you like them?” Flora asked. “Bigger maybe?” “I take pride in not having a type,” Bea said. “All women are beautiful. Maybe not equally.” Bea winked. “You’re very, very cute.”

“I’ve always wished I had a little more…” Flora said. “A little more. A little more of you. A little less girl, a little more woman.”

Bea bent down, face hanging over Flora’s chest. She laid a long, puckered kiss on Flora’s left nipple, turning to do the same to the other a second later. “You’re beautiful, Flora,” Bea said.

Beatrix put her own bra back on, a hell of a show with the precise positioning it took for the garment to contain her, and sat for a second in the chair against the wall. Flora, still topless, sat in Bea’s lap before she could get up. Bea shifted slightly to let the relatively light and compact Flora get comfortable on top of her. Flora rested her head on Bea’s shoulder, and began stroking Bea’s nylon-clad leg without even thinking about it.

“What do you like about them?” Bea asked. “Everything,” Flora said. “I like how they look. I like how they make you look serious and authoritative, and sort of retro all at once. I like how a woman looks when she’s wearing just these, like you’re peeping on your aunt while she’s changing or something. More naked than naked, like you said. That’s why I like the ones that go all the way to your waist. The full-on granny kind. Thigh-highs, you can see all the way to the top. Seeing the rest of them, the parts that go under your clothes, feels like seeing something you’re not supposed to. It’s like seeing a proper Victorian lady under her fifty dresses. It’s more intimate that a bra or panties, somehow, or even naked. But what I’ve always gone crazy for is how they feel. They’re slick, and they’re soft, but not. They’re hard and almost scratchy, but soft and luxurious all at the same time. And when you touch them, it’s like you’re touching her skin, but you’re not. It’s not clothing, but it’s not skin. It feels like you’re not supposed to be touching it, the way feeling somebody up through their clothes does, like you’re doing it in public even when you’re not. And the feeling itself is nice too.”

“You never wear them,” Bea said. “It’s not the same,” Flora said. “That’s like masturbating instead of having sex.”

Flora rubbed Bea’s leg like she was trying to start the whole sordid business over again, but she wasn’t. She just wanted to have her hand on Bea. She had spent literally three years dreaming of having her hands all over Bea’s hosed thighs, and even if she had just done a lot more than that it still made her felt like that infatuated girl was finally getting her wish. Bea put her arm around Flora, who was still pawing with satisfaction at her leg.

“How does it feel?” Ms. Buck asked. Finally letting herself admit exactly how she felt out loud, Flora simply said “You feel like home” as she closed her eyes and sunk into Bea’s embrace.


End file.
